In the Long Run

In Rome we were intrigued by one specific ruin in the center of the city which was home to many wild cats. A posted sign detailed the humane, but not totally effective, efforts to control the cat population there. Click on the picture to enlarge it, and look carefully to find a few felines.

In Russia, there were quite a few wild dogs running around, often in packs of three or four. It was one such dog that threatened my Key Limey. The dog first snarled and charged toward my son and me, who were walking a short distance ahead of KL. We quickly moved away in another direction, and avoided eye contact. KL however, stopped and faced the dog, which apparently viewed this as a direct challenge. True to Russian form, this dog would not back down, or turn tail and flee the fight. Instead, the animal lunged forward at KL.

He was a large, German Shepherd-mutt-mix, and he growled at my Key Limey and snapped at him from barely two feet away. He seemed fiercer and more threatening than our next door neighbors’ dogs, (the Hounds from Hell) particularly since there was no protective fence between him and KL.

“Walk away before he bites you!” I yelled out the obvious to my husband. “I’ve had too many dog bites from dogs I turned my back on,” he replied, warily trying to inch backward without further antagonizing the dog. They continued their cold war stare-down. After a few tense moments, the dog gave one last alpha male snarl and turned away triumphantly when my husband had retreated back far enough to be out of his territory. Crisis averted.

I wanted to pet a dog I saw in the Russian metro station when I saw everyone else doing it. My son had pointed out a bronze statue of a hunter and his dog. The nose and the leg of the dog were smooth, and shiny, worn down by the constant caressing of passers-by who apparently stroke the dog for good luck. Simple enough, and maybe it works!

Posted by Cyppy at 9:04 PM